


The Demon of Christmas Present(s)

by Davechicken



Series: Castiel and Crowley's First Christmas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For ElDiablito_SF, to whom I owe some fluff instead of all the angst I pour out. Set post Paradiso.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon of Christmas Present(s)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Paradiso](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056561) by [Davechicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken), [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF). 



It was the most ridiculous thing Crowley had ever heard of in his life or - for that matter - afterlife. It was. They were both immortal creatures and Castiel was an angel of the Lord. Castiel had been there on the very first Christmas and so he knew fine well that it wasn't December the bloody twenty-fifth, thank you. Not only that, but the current version of Christmas was so far divorced from the original one now that it made a mockery of the celebration.

"It's stupid," Crowley had said, as Cas rearranged the tinsel yet again. 

"No it isn't."

"Cas, it's neither a celebration of the birth of your Father in his rebellious human years, nor is it a pagan tradition. It's crass commercialism of the highest order and I won't stand for it."

But Cas had simply kissed him on the nose, rubbed his earlobes between finger and thumb, and purred about how sweet it was for the King of Hell to be offended on behalf of the little baby Jesus (who was neither tender nor mild).

Fucking angels.

Crowley had no problem with crass commercialism, really. Sort of. But he felt it was a bit much for his angel to ask him to see past all the over-priced, unwanted, excessively ridiculous gadgets, socks, pull-overs, chocolates, bottles of liquor and whatever else was in fashion this year. He was enraged because Castiel seemed to think that all the little fake angel decorations were somehow 'sweet' and 'cute' and he kept insisting it was the 'spirit' of the giving that mattered, not the fact that people were more interested in Saint Nick than they were in their supposed Lord and Saviour.

Fucking. Angels.

And here was Crowley getting bothered about fucking Jesus and it was not right. Not right at all. Actually maybe it would be better if they just agreed not to celebrate anything, because it wasn't as if he wanted to go to Midnight Mass either. He just thought his bloody angel should be more... you know. Angelic.

And less obsessed with hanging stockings from the fireplace or writing out cards to the five friends he had, or bleating on about all the food he wanted, or occasionally going out and performing little miracles. Okay the last one was fine. But the rest was stupid. 

However, if Crowley was going to have to deal with all this ridiculous tinsel (and no, he was not going to put on a fake beard and hat no matter how many times his angel teased him that he'd make a great Santa, his angel would cease to suggest that if he ever wanted to get laid again) then they were just going to... have to... do it... properly.

Which meant he had to get a present for him.

Like. A real one.

Something special and nice.

Something that was better than some commercialised crap.

(Because, deep down, the demon loved to spoil his angel thoroughly rotten. He just didn't like social norms forcing his hand. He wanted to spoil him because he enjoyed doing it, not because it was considered _de rigeur_.)

Clothing was out of the question. Castiel already visited the finest tailor known to demonkind on a regular basis. (And boy, could Crowley tell.) Anything 'Christmassy' would likely have fucking ugly trees on it or snowflakes or baubles or be in garish, clashing colours. Crowley would rather stick pokers in his eyes than see his angel look like a herbivore and a carnivore simultaneously vomited on him after ingesting glitter.

Food was out of the question. Neither of them _needed_ it, but both of them still enjoyed good food and drink. But when you got your angel the best things on the face of the planet... how could a little bag of satsumas or some fine alcohol be anything other than boring?

No need for gadgets, either. When he'd decorated their love palace, Crowley had forgotten to leave enough space for improvement and now there really wasn't much else he could get him. They had all the mod cons. He supposed he could get Cas a yacht or something, but the angel had never shown an interest in sailing and it felt a bit tacky.

No books, no music, no films, no cruise tickets, no... anything. He briefly considered sponsoring a child off in some godforsaken country but then Cas might think he had an interest in _adoption_ and he really, really didn't.

It was all terrible. All of it.

Maybe he could just vanish for the rest of the month and stay somewhere hot and tropical and decidedly non-Christian or something. Cas would forgive him, right? He could just go pester the Winchesters with his annoying singing, blinking, gyrating ornaments and...

...then he had the best idea ever.

***

"What did you get me?" the angel asked, barely containing his glee. He was wearing stupid fake, fabric antlers which just made Crowley think about the younger Winchester and he made a mental note to send some over along with some fuzzy reindeer noses to hang from the Impala's rear-view mirror.

"You're going to have to open it," Crowley said, still holding the perfectly wrapped box because he knew the moment Cas felt the insides sliding around loose it would arouse his suspicion still further. Well. Cas could just _look_ inside, but that would spoil the surprise.

"Am I going to like it?"

"No, you're going to hate it and then we're getting divorced."

Cas pouted at the poor taste joke, drinking some more of his horrible eggnog. "Maybe I won't open it then."

"I could just get rid of it, if you prefer...?"

The angel's blue eyes rolled and he snatched the box, shoving the half-finished eggnog into Crowley's hands. "I'm not going to divorce you on our first Christmas together."

"No, I'd say it's a second Christmas thing. You know. Has to be a trend first."

Cas was holding the box carefully, now. He could feel the weight shifting. He moved to the couch and sat with it on his lap, undoing the (very ornate, very decorative, very pretty) bow with impatient fingers, ripping paper apart with a load shriek. 

(Crowley tried not to wince.)

Inside the paper was a box with holes in the lid. Castiel pulled the lid off and Crowley watched his face with something approaching nerves. (Almost as bad as asking for his hand. Almost. Nothing would ever be quite as unnerving as literally offering up his heart forever, but having his first Christmas gift judged would come high up on the list.)

Cas didn't even make a sound, which Crowley took as a sign. Of something. He reached both hands into the box and pulled out the tiny little black and white ball of fur. White stockinged paws wriggled over the tops of his thumbs, the back paws trailing below and tangling with the tail the little kitten hadn't _quite_ worked out how to use, yet. Crowley watched as two pairs of perfect blue eyes fixed on one another, and neither he nor Castiel seemed to breathe.

"So..."

Cas didn't even look up. The kitten wriggled its little fluffy butt around and opened its pink mouth in the tiniest little 'mew'.

The next thing he saw was Cas pulling the squirming life-form against his chest and cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world. One hand under its backside, the other stroking two fingers between its ears and down its neck. Apparently he had made a good decision, because his angel was speechless and beaming at him.

"Don't get too attached, they don't live all that long."

Why the fuck did he say that?

"She will live just long enough," Cas told him, standing up and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "She's beautiful. I love her. She also loves you."

Crowley scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Magi told me herself," Cas said, tutting at him.

"Magi? Really?"

"It's her name."

"And here was me thinking you'd call it something like 'Holly'."

"Her," Cas corrected him. "And no. Magi is pleased you brought her home. Won't you give her a hug?" The angel held out the animal, which was now blinking at him in the same way Cas did (a reason I call you 'kitten', he thought to himself.)

There was no getting out of it, so he held his hands out with a sigh and accepted the little monster. It batted a paw at him, then turned and latched its little toothless mouth onto his thumb and started to suckle.

Crowley was not melting at the sight of the tiny beast. He was not. It was stupid and foolish and sentimental and pathetic and it was only because cats were independent beasties and it would grow up to stalk in and out of the house and not demand plenty of attention and...

"She likes you a lot," Cas said, stepping in behind him and wrapping his arms around the demon's waist. His breath was warm on Crowley's neck, his lips warmer still. "She's gorgeous."

Cas lifted a hand to stroke over her fur, and Crowley was surprised to see how happily the little imp rolled onto her back and bared her belly for scritchings. Even more surprised at the cooing noises his angel was making behind him.

"She's tired," Cas said eventually, as the monster in kitten form yawned widely at them and rolled up into a ball. "Come on. Let's put her to bed so I can give you your present."

"Alright," he said gruffly, holding the beast out. 

Cas scooped her up and found where he'd hidden the cat bed, and placed her inside.

"I thought you didn't like Christmas." The angel frowned at him. "I thought you weren't going to do this whole 'present' thing."

"Yes. Well. I think you're an idiot, but you're an idiot I love."

"Probably a good job I got you something, too..."

Crowley hoped to Hell it wasn't a puppy.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  By the lovely [assbutts-and-bollocks](http://assbutts-and-bollocks.tumblr.com).


End file.
